Claire ducked her head, and I got the feeling it was something people hadn’t said about her in a long, long time. She handed me a faded green suit. ‘This is for you.’
We changed with our backs to each other. The straps of the suit were stretched out and thin, and the belly area sagged. I tried to press it flatter to me, embarrassed that my body didn’t occupy it completely. Claire wore a black and white Speedo, showing off her apple-shaped torso, prominent chest, skinny legs. With her hair pulled back off her face, she was truly beautiful.
‘So where’s Frannie’s dad?’ I asked. ‘Work?’
‘No, he’s down in Louisiana, with his father.’ Claire slung her towel around her shoulders. ‘He’s sick. At first, they were just thinking it was Alzheimer’s, or Parkinson’s. He was so twitchy, I guess. But it’s something else, apparently. Sort of a degenerative thing. It starts with an H.’ She thought for a moment. ‘Hunter’s?’
‘Huntington’s?’ I asked.
She snapped her fingers. ‘Yes.’
I stared at her. ‘He has Huntington’s?’
‘Yes. Well, maybe. They’re running tests. It looks pretty likely.’
‘And this is Frannie’s grandfather,’ I stated.
Claire’s brow creased. ‘Yeah. And?’
I let out an exhale of disbelief, then walked to the sink and bent over the basin. ‘It’s a serious disease, Claire. And it’s genetic. He could’ve passed it to Thomas, and Thomas could’ve passed it to Frannie. There’s a fifty per cent chance, and if you have the gene, you eventually get it. It’s fatal. Someone told you this, right?’
Fear and surprise flashed across Claire’s face. She looked away, turning on the warm tap of the sink and running the water over her palms.
‘No one told you?’ I goaded. ‘So Thomas hasn’t been tested?’
Claire shook her head slowly. ‘They’re just testing his dad right now.’
‘Claire, you have to do something about this.’
‘What? What am I supposed to do?’ Claire tried to laugh, except her mouth bent at an unnatural angle. ‘What am I supposed to do with this information? Jesus!’
She walked over to Frannie, taking her hand and speaking into her ear. I leaned up against the cold, hard sink. I didn’t know what she was supposed to do with the information, but I felt I had to share it, knowing what I did, having worked at the clinic, having taken the genetics classes. And who didn’t know about Huntington’s? Who, when faced with a disease or even the possibility of a disease, didn’t immediately go on the Internet and read everything they could about it?
I caught Claire’s arm as she headed for the pool. ‘I wouldn’t worry about Thomas or anything. Or Frannie.’
‘I’m not going to,’ Claire said stiffly. ‘Thomas’s father has lived a good life. He plays in a bluegrass band. He has a boat. He taught Frannie a lot of songs. He’s a good person.’ She watched as Frannie pushed through the sunshine-yellow door into the pool area. ‘It doesn’t change who he is, and it won’t change who Frannie is, either. I couldn’t imagine my life without her. I couldn’t imagine the world without her in it. It’s not like I’m going to feel guilty, now, for having her. I got enough of that already. It’s not like we had any idea.’
I gaze at her, briefly confused. ‘I wasn’t trying to make you feel guilty,’ I said. ‘But the test would be really easy. It’s a tiny blood sample, that’s all. Frannie wouldn’t even feel it.’
Claire stared at me, exasperated. ‘That’s up to her. It’s her choice, when the time comes.’
‘But don’t you want to know?’
Her hair fell over her face. ‘Would you like to know how you’re going to die? Or how your daughter’s going to die?’ Then she laughed bitterly. ‘Maybe you would, actually. You always wanted to know the answers to everything. You’d be much happier if your whole life was plotted on a perfect course and went exactly to plan, no surprises.’
‘I’m just saying—’